


What Lies Beneath The Sea

by SolluxanderCaptr



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: Crack Fic, Existential Dread, Major Character Injury, Scat, Some characters are OOC, Southern Gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 20:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolluxanderCaptr/pseuds/SolluxanderCaptr
Summary: SpongeBob discovers something very unpleasant about his boss and is forced to confront his fears about Bikini Bottom.





	What Lies Beneath The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Born out of a Discord server

He has seen it happen before. 

Once, a customer had demanded a refund. The child had gotten sick from one of the burgers, though both he and Squidward saw him overeat. Overeating, overeager, overall a perfect picture of a gluttonous haven. Even the children of this wretched, mildew stained town could not escape the clutches of indulgence. 

And Eugene Krabs had capitalized on it aggressively. He was the most ambitious businessman Spongebob had ever known. Sometimes he dreamed of being him, of building the perfect service in such an isolated town. 

But Spongebob’s brain was waterlogged. And when he tilted his head to clear it, he finally saw Eugene Krabs for what he was. 

The refund would have been easy to do. All the customer was asking for was their $3.47 back. As far as Krusty Krab™ money went, it was but a raindrop in their ocean. Barely even a ripple. But, being an employee for so long under this man, this _ creature_. Eugene Krabs had a monopoly on this town, running unopposed, uncontested for years as far as anyone was concerned.

But the customer insisted and insisted on the refund, her child’s face turning greener by the second. Mr. Krabs’ was getting redder, shell flushing with anger, eyes threatening to pop out of it at any moment. Squidward reached toward the register to get out the woman’s money but a meaty claw slammed itself down on the machine. A scream erupted from the squid’s throat and broke the silent tension. His hand was not broken (of course, how could it? It had no bones) but badly bruised. Spongebob swore to himself that Mr. Krabs didn’t know what he was doing, that it was a coincidence. Merely an unbiased expression of frustration. His back had been turned the entire time- how could he have seen Squidward reaching for the money?

But some nights the sponge swore he remembered seeing his superior’s eyes flick behind him before he inflicted the damage upon his coworker. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. 

After the slam, Mr. Krabs ran into his office, absolutely steaming at the ears. Opting to calm his boss down rather than fuss over Squidward, Spongebob followed him into the room. He caught the door just before it slammed shut and gingerly stepped in after Eugene. 

It was the smell that hit him first.

The process itself was inaudible. A silent killer indeed. But it quickly wafted around the room, made itself known to the two sea creatures. 

It stank. Rancid. Worse than any of the places outside of Bikini Bottom Spongebob had been to. Worse than the biker bar, worse than Rock Bottom, worse than the trench he and Patrick had braved for the Princess. Even worse than the surface world and all its chemicals and mammalian body odors.

A wet stain was creeping up the back of Mr. Krab’s pants. Spongebob looked on, frozen. His superior cursed none too quietly and his claws moved to his belt. 

Spongebob had no desire to see his idol strip, much less strip in the position he was in, but could not bring himself to move. Instead he-

“Mr. Krabs?” he whispered. Then, louder, “M- Mr. Krabs, sir, are you alrigh-” 

“GET OUT.” 

The other man’s bellow shook the door and Spongebob’s bladder, so he ran off before he made a similar mistake. 

In all his years of employment he’d never felt a rage so visceral as that. He had heard Mr. Krabs yell before, _hell_ he’d been the shoulder on which his boss wailed upon about expenses. 

The goddamned miser.

Now Spongebob was afraid of him. So afraid that had to trap himself in a stall. But something else accompanied that fear. Something different. Something detached. 

Mr. Krabs has just dirtied himself in front of him. 

He obviously didn’t mean to, but it had happened nonetheless. And it didn’t even feel _ real _ to Spongebob. He dared not to say it out loud fory fear of awakening whatever beast was hiding in that red shell just three rooms away. 

Eventually Spongebob stepped out of the stall, washed his hands, and got back to being the best fry cook in the best restaurant in town. No matter how violently his hand shook on the spatula, how his heart drummed frantically at the sight of Mr. Krabs, he would play his role. He would put his thoughts to sleep, wear a smile, and finish his day.

After all, the restaurant had a reputation to uphold.

* * *

“Spongebob, you ever feel like something is off about Mr. Krabs?”

He jumped, startled at the sound of Squidward’s voice. They had taken up the night shift again and Spongebob was frying up some special Krabby Patties™ just for him and his work buddy. The sponge glanced at Squidward's right tentacle. It had been months after the incident, but he still couldn’t help but wonder.

“W-What do you mean buddy?” he asked, his voice slightly off his cherry cadence.

He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like there’s something _ seriously _wrong with him, you know?”

“Haha, well that’s Mr. Krabs for ya!” he replied and plates their burgers. “Alright Squidward, two Specials just for us. A job well done in the best restaurant in town.”

Squidward chuckled in that way when he was clearly deep in his cynicism. “Yeah. Best restaurant in town.”

They are quietly, the flickering lights of the “cost efficient power saving mode” shifting the air in the restaurant. Barely anyone came to the Krusty Krab™ this late, so neither of them understood what justified leaving it open. But when Spongebob’s eyes had lazily focused on their darkened doors, his coworker’s voice brought him back. 

“I think I’m going to ask for a raise.”

Spongebob nearly spat out his burger. “Squidward are you _ crazy_?” he exclaimed, trying to keep on his smile. “You- you don’t want to bother old Mr. Krabs about something small like that, right?”

“I don’t think it’s small at all Spongebob,” he replied, shaking his head. “Cost of living is going up and it’s only fair that he give us at least 5% more each to help accommodate that. Our pay hasn’t changed since we were hired.”

‘Cost of living’. ‘Accommodate’. ‘5% _ at least_’. Squidward has certainly done some homework outside of town.

“Is it really that bad? I mean we’ve always gotten by, haven’t we?” He picked at the loose sesame seeds on his tray. 

Squidward’s eyes narrowed. “I thought even _ you _ would be supportive of this idea. It’s the bare minimum, the least _ any _ employer could do.” The octopus set his tray down, Krabby Patty™ Special half-eaten. “Is there any reason you think we _ shouldn’t _get those raises?”

His tone was knowing, but Squidward couldn’t have possibly seen- 

There was no way he could have known about it; they’d started work the same year, been present for almost everyday together (save for when Squidward took a personal day), and most of all Squidward had never gone into Mr. Krabs’ office by himself. He just wasn’t that type of person.

Was it possible at all that Squidward had been suspicious since that incident all those months ago? Or from even earlier? Was it possible his own erratic behavior was what clued the octopus in to their boss’ plight? Spongebob just didn’t know. 

He coughed. “N- no,” he replied. “No, I guess there isn’t a reason why we _ shouldn’t _ask for a raise.”

“It’s settled then,” Squidward said, as-a-matter-of-factly. “We’ll go in tomorrow before we open.”

He looked at his coworker incredulously. “Tomorrow morning? Before we open?” he dumbly repeated. Did that spell disaster for him? Would it be better or worse in the mornings? What would constitute better or worse in this situation? What was even the goal here?!

“You heard me Spongebob. Tomorrow morning we march right into his office and demand our raises. No if, ands, or buts.” 

The sponge wanted to protest, but found no words useful to him that would, in addition, not betray his superior’s secret. He knew Squidward to be level-headed in his mannerisms and this made him impossible to debate with, but he also knew him to be a bit of a bully. Squidward never held back on his stinging remarks, joke or not. Spongebob was terrified at even the thought of that behavior whilst Mr. Krabs was having his… fits. No doubt Squidward would be fired and then Spongebob would have to deal with a new employee, have no allies in this black hole of a family-style eatery. He could only face this mess with someone like Squidward by his side. Like it or not, the squid was what allowed him to get through the day so cheery and upbeat and stave off his worries for deep in the night.

Like his nature Spongebob felt he was soaking up the impact of Mr. Krab’s rage. He could feel it on the tip of his tongue. He had to protect Squidward. 

“Okay,” he reluctantly conceded and Squidward’s face fell into an easy, satisfied grin. “Tomorrow. Together. You and me buddy.”

* * *

Eugene often tossed and turned in his sleep, dreaming of that day. The child, the register, the fry cook. You couldn’t be as successful and good-looking at his age without some sacrifices. 

His sacrifice was his constitution.

He had wanted so much from this town. In fact, he had never seen the mayor of Bikini Bottom, but there were new developments all the time that required government supervision. Of course, none of these developments, none of their kind, were ever enacted when Eugene was a child. No, it was because of _ him_, because of _ his _ restaurant. The Krusty Krab™ was what drew new people to this town. He was the sole pillar holding it up. 

Eugene was lucky that he had bagged such an efficient and stupidly loyal fry cook, such a cold man for the counter. He thought he had it all. He was here at the town’s genesis and he would damn well be here for its eventual fall, accompanied by his culinary empire of one.

But that goddamned _ fry cook_.

Following him into his office, witnessing his secret, the one weakness he _ had_-

Eugene considered calling him in the next day and terminating him, but when the sponge had continued to do his job like it was any other day, he put that thought to rest. If he was loyal enough to follow him even when he had injured a fellow employee, then certainly he was loyal enough to shut up. The cashier had no other source of income to fuel his stupid artistic hobbies, so giving him a little more cash to cover the hospital expenses would keep him reliant and quiet about the incident. Of course, he still fumed about having to buy a completely new register, but counting and placing the money in the new machine settled his nerves. The soft clinking of the coins and the slip of a bill in between his claws was therapeutic. 

Eugene did not expect, however, for his two employees to stroll into his office at the same time, months later.

He was not a stupid man; Eugene could see how his fry cook’s eyes held the haunted look of _ knowing _ while he hid behind the squid. But he said nothing, letting the other creature speak for the both of them.

“Mr. Krabs,” he started, “we demand a raise.”

His shell froze over in sub-zero _ fury_, the type where frostbite was imminent in a pink slip and a lawsuit.

“A _ what _now boy?”

“You heard us.” 

Mr. Krabs held back a scoff. Spongebob was painfully silent, there was no ‘us’. He sighed, rough and tired. Betraying his age just the slightest.

“Fine. Why do you think you deserve a raise?”

Squidward’s eyes lit up with an energy Spongebob had only seen while he was engaged in one of his hobbies. It was strange seeing passion in a place he had described as “soul-sucking” on multiple occasions. 

But, in his attentiveness, Spongebob also saw what was building up in that red shell. The subtle shiver of those claws clenching around envelopes of unpaid bills. The strain of his eyes. The harsh exhalations. The grin that had appeared on his face to mask all that. Squidward may not have seen it, but the energy emanating from his superior brought him back to the stall and broken register.

Through gritted teeth he pressed on in the conversation, Eugene desperately wanting his employees gone. But Squidward merely droned on about “cost of living raises” and “how it’s unfair he’s so behind on his mortgage.” Spongebob, long gone from this exchange, let his eyes wander to the plain toilet sitting right in the middle of the office. 

When had that been installed? Did it work? He didn’t remember seeing that day or any day before. His eyes darted to his coworker, still stating his demands like he couldn’t see their boss about to blow. 

He feared at any moment Mr. Krabs might just break and shit his pants.


End file.
